


Only One For Me

by thecryoftheseagulls



Series: Logan Hawke [4]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-30
Updated: 2014-10-30
Packaged: 2018-02-23 05:08:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2535299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecryoftheseagulls/pseuds/thecryoftheseagulls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snippets of Logan Hawke's thoughts about his love for Anders/ his sexuality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only One For Me

It’s little things. The letter for Carver Logan finds amongst all the letters for him on the desk.

_Did Logan find a girl in Kirkwall? Please say he didn’t. I think that would break my heart. I always thought he liked me, but I don’t know why nothing ever came of it. He looked at me once, that one time at the fair, and I thought I was going to die from happiness. I don’t know why you never brought us together. You’re a bad friend, Carver._

And, further down:

_I think I’ve filled out just a little more since you left. I think your brother would appreciate it. I look so much better in dresses now and even more amazing out of them._

Logan swallows disgust and pushes the letter from Peaches away. He remembers that day, the way his brother’s friend followed the pair of them around like a lovesick puppy with eyes only for him, missing completely the fact that Carver looked at her the same way. As the day passed and Carver watched them, Logan could see the hope in his brother’s eyes turn to bitterness. At last he had sighed, given the girl a deliberate stare and looked, directly, pointedly, at Carver before stalking away. Evidently the girl still had not gotten it, these years later.

It wasn’t fair to Carver that his friend would be writing almost solely to inquire about his elder brother. Logan had never pretended to be remotely interested in her or any of the other village girls.

**

When Hawke moves his mother into the Amell estate, it pleases him that she, the last of those Father left under his care, is so pleased to be there. That is until she tosses over her shoulder shortly after they move in,

“I guess I just need to start finding you a suitable wife.”

Logan freezes, his fists clenching. There had never been any serious mention of wives before, jokes about girls certainly, but they are standing in an ancestral hall and his mother is happy, as happy as he has seen her in some time, and Logan knows how the game is played for these nobles. He has made himself one of them, through hard-won coin and effort. For his mother it is an easy thing to fall back into the life she was born to, but this world is foreign to Logan. He is more comfortable in the dark alleys of Lowtown or the tables of the Hanged Man. Give him the safe obscurity of the wild forests or a table to sit on in Anders’ clinic while he watches the other mage mix salves and heal wounds. It is Anders’ hands that captivate him, calloused and strong. They grip a pestle with surety, trail over dried herbs that hang from the ceilings. Anders can summon healing magic to his fingertips with ease, and his touch on his patients is gentle but firm, and Maker, Logan could watch those hands all day.

A wife he does not want.

**

“The Reinhardts second daughter is very interested in meeting you,” Leandra says over dinner a month later.

Logan sets down his cutlery very deliberately. “You cannot be serious, Mother.”

“She seems like a nice enough girl. Very respectable family. And she’s heard all about you. I think you would like her.”

“Mother, I’m not interested in the Reinhardts’ daughter.”

“Perhaps someone else then? There’s-”

Logan groans. “I’m not interested in a _wife_. Any wife.”

His mother sits across from him in stunned silence, all interest in her food forgotten, and Logan takes the opportunity to add,

“Maker’s breath, I am an apostate. No woman in her right mind would marry me, and I in good conscience could never marry a woman I might have to leave in a lurch in case the templars ever decide they’re going to finally drag me in chains to the Circle. I may have built a name for us but there will come a day when that won’t matter, and I will not drag anyone else into this life.” He stands, tosses his napkin on the table, and mutters an, “Excuse me,” before he can say more than the pretty half-truth he has just spouted.

It would not do to say, “I am in love with a man who has a spirit inside him, a man who is as hunted as I, in love with the smile he rarely gives and the shape of his hands and the warm gold color of his eyes. And I have never looked twice at a woman in my life.”


End file.
